Friends and Grapes

October 13, 2015

Last night's post was missing not because I wasn't thankful. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, just right for yard work, which is what Linda and I did at our Cassadaga house before heading out to church in the evening. Linda had Bible Study and I had rehearsal for worship and Koinonia weekend. So it was a full day that didn't end till after nine. Normally, just right for reflection and writing. But I had to be up at 4:00 to take a friend to Buffalo for his daughter's surgery, so I hit the sack as soon as I got home, grateful to have had a productive day of work.

With all the work getting our entryway finished and tidying up two yards, picking grapes never really entered my mind until the other day, so after doing the yard work in Cassadaga, I decided to drive the rest of the way to Fredonia to the place I normally pick. The vines were barren. I don't know whether someone got there before me or it was last winter's unusually cold January, but there wasn't a grape to be found. My friend Ted however, drives grape truck part time for the vineyards, so I called him up and asked if he could get me a few bushel. He checked with his grower, and tonight I followed him to his job where he introduced me to the owner. I made it just under the wire; Thursday or Friday Ted will haul his last load to the processor.

The vineyard owner took me to a field behind his house, led me to a particular row and let me have at it. When I asked what I owed him, he said, "Is five dollars too much?" Too much! He knew I wanted between five and seven bushels. I figured on paying five times that amount, or more. I picked for over two hours, till it got so dark I couldn't see the grapes. I don't know how many bushel of grapes I picked because I used five gallon buckets, but I filled about a dozen of them before I was done. It's going to be a mad dash to process them all before they spoil, but we'll make it. I love this job! The house will smell of Concord grapes for the next few days, and when we're all done, the canning cabinet in the basement will hold about sixty quarts of juice, and I'll be able to give plenty of grapes to friends and family. Our grandkids in particular will thank me. They drink the stuff like water. If you've never had homemade grape juice, I'll just tell you now; you can't buy stuff this good in the stores.

So tonight I am thankful to have been able to be a friend, getting a young man to the hospital for his daughter's surgery, and I am grateful to have a friend who transformed what looked to be a grape juice-less year into a bumper crop.